Home
by wih
Summary: Earthside reminiscing...


Title: Home

Author: wihluta

Spoilers: none

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble, but it got a little out of hand.

1. Rodney

„What now?" Rodney asked himself.

He was standing in his apartment, feeling strangely out of place. His clothes felt wrong – he couldn't possibly have gotten used to wearing BDUs? - no, probably just the conditioner they used at SGC. Who knew what kind of poison they put on the clothes. He absentmindedly fingered the buttons of his shirt, stroked a hand over his thigh, while he took in his surroundings.

This was his apartment. It used to be his sanctuary. A place where he could hide from all the morons out there. It should feel like home.

Except, it didn't.

He walked towards the couch and slumped down onto it. A puff of dust rose around him, reminding him that this wasn't really home anymore. Home was somewhere else now. Home was...

Atlantis.

The realization struck him like lightning. Like one of his brilliant ideas. The problem was, it wasn't a brilliant idea at all. It was the stupidest idea ever. Atlantis was constantly on the verge of being destroyed, the Pegasus Galaxy was teeming with enemies– It was the worst possible place to call home.

Except, it wasn't.

Because Atlantis was also full of people he... no, well, he'd grown accustomed to. Yes, that was it. Plus there were exciting new discoveries around every corner. He didn't even mind – not much anyway – that he couldn't publish any of them. Yet.

He reached for an old bag of chips and stuck one in his mouth. Not that bad. The Athosian chips-like-thingies tasted almost the same.

Right. Now that he was here, what should he do. Watch TV? He didn't really feel like it. He could sleep. Or go and get his cat. Or maybe order pizza. He could even start reading up on the stupid articles his even stupider colleagues had written while he was away. There was a heap of magazines on the floor by the door. Or he could call Sheppard.

The phone was already in his hand when he realized what a bad idea it was. „Stop being pathetic, McKay." he told himself and tossed the phone onto the couch table.

The thing was, he felt pathetic. Back on Atlantis he'd boasted about all the things he was going to do once he was finally back on earth. Now that he _was_ back, he couldn't even remember them. Maybe he could take a nap and call Sheppard later. Later wouldn't be that pathetic, wouldn't it.

Except...

Sheppard would think he was pathetic no matter when he called. Sheppard was probably sitting on his own couch now, sipping beer and watching football. Or he would be in some bar, picking up a beautiful woman. Or he'd throw a party with some old friends. No. Calling Sheppard was definitely not a good idea.

Rodney was about to roll onto his side to take a nap and figure out what else to do later when there was a knock at the door. Probably his neighbour bringing over the cat. About to yell at him for leaving him with her for so long. Rodney sighed and got up.

He opened the door without checking the peephole expecting a furry something to be shoved against him.

Instead...

Instead there was Sheppard. Sheppard, standing in the doorway, looking sheepish and holding up a six-pack.

„Wanna share a few beer?"

It was the most brilliant question Rodney had ever been asked.

2. John

John stood in the frozen food aisle and weighed his options. People bustled around him and he knew he was kinda in the way, but he just couldn't make up his mind. Damned food stores and their choices. Who needed 25 different sorts of pizza anyway?

Finally, getting annoyed with himself he reached out, grabbed a couple of the nearest pizzas and threw them in the cart. It didn't really matter, any of them would be okay.

He went on, towards the next aisle – alcoholic drinks – good. At least he'd know what to chose here. He looked into his cart – toast, some apples, a jar of jam, a few bags of chips, french fries and the pizzas. It looked like any normal shopper's cart. Which was good, it was reassuring to know he could still appear normal. He even felt normal. Well, almost.

But even that was normal, wasn't it. You couldn't expect a person who had spend months in another galaxy being chased by life-sucking aliens and threatened to kill at every turn to simply return home and fit it as if nothing had ever happened, could you? Feeling a little out of place was normal.

Normal was good.

The problem was just that John had never really felt normal. At least not on earth. If he was completely honest with himself, the first time he'd felt 'normal'; the first time he'd felt he really belonged somewhere, was when he'd stepped onto Atlantis.

Atlantis was home. Even the memories of being chased by Wraith felt more normal than standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle. Damn, he wanted to go home.

He grabbed a sixpack of beer from the cart and left it standing where it was. Twenty minutes later he rang the doorbell to Rodney's apartment. It wasn't quite home, but it was pretty damn close to it.


End file.
